


Changes

by biggestbaddestwolf



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Military, F/M, M/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-12
Updated: 2013-03-12
Packaged: 2017-12-05 02:54:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/718049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/biggestbaddestwolf/pseuds/biggestbaddestwolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to "Here Without You".  A late night phone call from Puckerman makes Sam Evans re-evaluate his current plans, post coming home from the war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes

**Author's Note:**

> This is after Sam goes back to Ohio, but Kurt's in NYC. If you want this to make any sense, you should read "Here Without You" by me, and [Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again](http://gleeful-fan.livejournal.com/9805.html) by Gleefulfan, as it's all in the same universe. The title is a 3 Doors Down song.

It's four in the morning and Evans' phone rings. He hopes it's Kurt. It's not.  
  
"What the hell, Puckerman, don't you have a kid to take care of in the morning?"  
  
"For fuck's sake, Evans," Puckerman chuckles, his voice as thick with exhaustion as Evans' own. Evans sits up, rubbing his eyes. The covers fall from his torso, and the breeze from his open window hits him cold. "Having a kid's the reason I'm up at the buttcrack of dawn. I wake you up?"  
  
Evans runs a hand through his hair, letting out a deep sigh. The air is the kind of cool that he can smell when he breathes in deep and slow. "Of course you woke me up."  
  
"Thought you'd be up jogging or something already."  
  
"My alarm goes off at six," Evans answers without skipping a beat, rubbing the back of his neck. "What's up?"  
  
Because Puckerman doesn't call at four in the morning. Puckerman doesn't really  _call_ at all. Evans doesn't really call either, though. It's not that they're out of contact, because they email occasionally, Puckerman sends dirty jokes on his phone and asks if Sam and Kurt have finally dealt with their blue balls yet (preposterous messages that get no answer besides 'fuck off', because Evans and Kurt aren't even in the same state and it's none of Puckerman's business, anyway).  
  
There's a long stretch of silence on the line, enough beats that Evans can count  _one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight_  a couple of times before Puckerman speaks. "Beth started crying."  
  
"Kids do that, right?" Sam tries to make a joke about it.  
  
"Quinn's been tired, from work, so I told her I'd take care of it," Puckerman continues, and it's like he didn't see the humor in Evans' comment. "I come in, and she's just, I don't know, there, crying, in her crib. So I pick her up- arm's good enough now that I can do that, thank fucking God- and I've been holding her for the past hour."  
  
Evans' seen this in movies, that awkward monologue moment where the dad's so disconnected from his kid that the kid doesn't settle down in his arms, and then there's a cry. Evans' steels himself for it, but he doesn't know what to  _say_ , doesn't have any advice prepared, because he's crap at advice. He can barely tell himself what to do, on a good day. At four on a cool morning? He's not sure what he has to offer Puck.  
  
"Did Quinn get her to bed?"  
  
Puck snorts. "Quinn? Shit, no, she would have killed me if I'd woken her up after promising to handle the damn thing. Just got Beth to sleep like, ten minutes ago."  
  
Evans' face screws up in confusion, and it's too early for this. "Then what's the problem, man? She's asleep, so you can go back to sleep." Fairly confident that Puckerman's not planning on hanging up in the next couple of minutes, Evans swings his legs over the side of the bed, standing up and stretching.  
  
He glances over at the calendar on his wall. He's got the end of the month circled. It's D-Day for him, and his D-Day is two days away. A day in the half, since Evans knows that he's not really getting back to sleep.  
  
He walks over to the window, leaning against the frame and looking outside. "Puckerman, no offense, but you're calling me at four in the morning and not saying anything. If I wanted that, I'd have a girlfriend. What's up?"  
  
There's a cough on the line, a clearing of a throat. "I'm gonna fuck this up, Evans."  
  
"What?" Evans frowns. "That doesn't make sense, man. How are  _you_  going to mess 'this' up?" Evans isn't really sure what of the many 'thises' they're talking about, specifically. And what does he want from Evans, exactly? It's not like Evans is exactly bursting with knowledge for fresh from a war fathers or anything.  
  
"When I signed up, I was that kid that everyone made the 'you gave this fucker a gun' jokes about," Puckerman admits. Evans snorts. "I'm serious, bro. That's still me. What the fuck am I doing with a kid? Looking for a house? That ain't me."  
  
Evans blows a clump of hair out of his eyes. Since he's been home, he's been lazy, letting his hair grow just to spite old regulations. He leaves his bed unmade, untucks his shirt. Still, though, he thinks of Kurt and keeps his boots clean, makes sure the buttons on all his clothes aren't coming loose.  
  
"Puckerman," Evans says, "You spent the entire time overseas wanting to do this."  
  
"And I still do," Puckerman snaps, as if Evans is implying that he was going to ditch. "That's not what I'm saying."  
  
"I'm half-asleep, I can't tell what you're saying."  
  
"Look, I signed up because I wanted to be a bad-ass," Puckerman tries to explain, and he lowers his voice to a hiss. "Because I wanted to strut around being a hero. Instead, I got fucking nasty ass burns and nightmares about Quinn's car blowing to hell on her way to work in the morning. I can't...Beth doesn't need this shit. Quinn doesn't. I dont' know what the fuck I'm doing."  
  
Evans rubs his arms. "I don't know what to tell you. I don't think you're screwed." The sentence falls so pathetically from Evans' mouth that Puckerman laughs a little sadly, trailing off. Sam laughs a little too. "Really. I mean, if you're screwed, we're all screwed."  
  
"Please, Evans, you've got your shit wrapped up tight," Puckerman replies. " You've got your boy, your family's all right," That's mostly right; Sam's sister still isn't doing so well, and Kurt's still miles and miles away. Evans is still looking at his calendar and not packing his bags and not buying a plane ticket.  
  
It's not that he doesn't want to go to see Kurt. Those two weeks after he came back to the States had been good. Awkward, as they learned to be around each other without worrying about higher ups breathing over their shoulders. When he woke up at four in the morning, he thought about what would have happened if he hadn't come back home, but in the end, he did come back. He did see Kurt again, and his family, and he's good with that.  
  
He's not happy, not yet, but he can imagine himself being happy. If he gets off his ass and just makes a decision.  
  
It's Evans' fault that there's silence on the line right now. Beats and seconds and it feels like minutes, even if it isn't.  
  
"You there, Evans, or did you fall asleep on me?" Puckerman asks.  
  
"No, no, I'm here," Evans replies. "So what if you were a stupid kid when you signed up, Puckerman? You're not that now. I mean, I trust you with my life." He trusts Puckerman with his secrets, too, and that counts for a little more. He doesn't say that, because he doesn't need to. "You love them, so you'll be able to do this."  
  
"I don't know..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah you do," Evans interjects. "You wanted to be a bad-ass? Step up, man. We know you can shoot a gun. But we all got taught how to do that. That's easy." Sam can't believe that he's telling anyone this, because honestly, who the fuck is he? But then again, who the fuck is going to tell it to Puckerman? "You've got to do what you have to do."  
  
Who's going to say it to  _him_ , he thinks to himself. Who's going to tell him he knows what he has to do, and what he wants to do, more than anything in the world, but he's so damned used to pretending and hiding and being miles away that he's worried about screwing it up once he's up close and personal?  
  
And thinking that, Evans thinks he understands why Puckerman called him.  
  
"I'm moving out of Ohio next month," Evans says suddenly. Up until that point, he'd had D-Day, the day to decide what he was going to do. But he's got to step up. If he loves Kurt, that's what he has to do, right? "To New York."  
  
"Good for you, bro," Puckerman says, and even though he's still quiet, the congratulations is genuine. "Your hometown's boring as shit, and you're probably the only queer in it. You need to get out."  
  
Evans chuckles, shaking his head. "Yeah," he says after a beat. "I do."  
  
"So when are you leaving?" Puckerman says. The conversation's not done, and things aren't  _good_ , but maybe they're a little better. Evans imagines Puckerman watching his baby girl sleep, and Evans remembers what it looks like when he wakes up beside Kurt, and the sunrises through the window of Kurt's bedroom.  
  
"I don't know yet," Evans admits, moving towards his computer. Turning it on. "I mean, next month, obviously, but I don't know the day."  
  
"Let me know, all right man? We've gotta give you a proper send off, maybe you and Artie and his girl can drive up my way, have a barbecue or something before you go," Puckerman tells him. "I think Quinn'd like that."  
  
Evans is half-distracted already, starting to compare airline ticket prices, but still, he smiles.  
  
"Of course."  
  
FIN


End file.
